Mig Elske, Sverige
by manmannikuman
Summary: It was the night of November at 1520... Sweden wants freedom, but Denmark didn't want him to be out of his grasp... Non-con; DenSu
1. Begynnelsen

_**'Wounds will dissapear in time, but that doesn't mean that the scar will too...'**_

_**

* * *

**_

Berwarld stared at the palm of his hands, there was blood.

It was at the night of the year 1520. The weather was freezing cold as it was in the month of November.

Berwarld's right eye was blurred with the crimson liquid pouring down from the open wound at the side of his face. The remainder eye then reverted its way from his hands to the standing Dane, who was smiling innocently as if nothing had just happened.

"Now, _**Sverige**_... Are you still going to say that you want to be independent from me?" Denmark said, swinging the heavy iron axe easily as it was a child's play.

Sweden glared his emerald eyes even harder to his assaulter. His teeth gritted in anger. His eyebrows knotted together to an expression that conveyed intense fury.

"_**Nej, Danmark**_! I wan' to be indep'ndent!" The fallen Swede gritted out of his teeth and bared his fangs. His breath intensified, signed by the increasing amount of white mist that surrounded the blood-oozed face.

Denmark saw the rage in Berwarld. The Dane's face then softened to that of sadness and lowered down his axe.

"... Why can you never understand my feelings, **Sverige**?" The upset Dane spoke, softly like that from a mother to a child, but his grip tightened to the axe.

" _**Hvor du kan aldrig forstå **__**min kærlighed**_?"

And with the last sentence, Denmark's face scrunched back to that of a furious dog and swung his metal axe. The blunt part of the weapon hit an impact to the side of the Swede's already-wounded face. The attack managed to make the younger man to lose consciousness.

Sweden's limp body rested upon the thin, white ice that covered the frozen lake of Vättern. The Pristine picture of the snow cloaked country was decorated with the colour of crimson seeping out of the fallen kingdom.

"And with this, you won't leave my side... _**Min elskede, Sverige**_" Denmark whispered to the ears of the unconscious nation, kissing him lightly to a coppery kiss.

* * *

By the time Sweden gained consciousness and cracked his eyes open, he sees nothing but darkness. A sudden surge of pain throbbed at the side of his face.

It was his reflex to pull one of his hands to check on the wound, but it was futile. His hands were chained above him. Cuffed to a wooden panel.

'_**Danmark**_ must have chained me to his underground dungeon...' He thought, unsurprised with the condition he was in right now.

Berwarld tried moving the other parts of his body and found out that his feet were also chained.

Figuring out that he couldn't move too much either, Sweden rested his head on the hard stone wall. He breathed in and out, slowly. His body had begun to shiver from the coldness of the basement. The only warmth he could feel was the warmth produced from his own breathing.

He closed his eyes again, trying to bring out all the happy memories from his childhood with Denmark, but all he recalled was the picture of Denmark's feral expression and the hard metal axe smashing against his skull.

Right in the middle of his own daze, the sound of heavy, wooden door creaked open. A ray of bright light bled itself into the room. A man followed soon after.

It was Denmark...

"Good morning, _**Sverige**_! How was your sleep, _**elskede**__**?**_" Denmark greeted, his hands had already lost its way to touch the side of Sweden's cold face. The Swede said nothing. Only an attempt of biting the hands of the perpetrator was given. Luckily, Denmark's reflex were better than that of a normal human, thus was able to prevent his own hands from being bitten off.

Sweden glared hard at the man in front of him. His bluish-emerald eyes darkened.

"_**Fan också, Danmark****!**_" Berwarld shouted. Malice coated his every word.

That left Denmark unimpressed, but instead, a kiss was directed to shut the bespectacled man up.

The unexpected action widened Sweden's bluish emerald eyes. And before anything managed to register within Sweden's mind, Denmark's velvety muscle had already invaded his defenseless mouth.

Denmark's tongue explored every inch of Berwarld's hot, wet cavern. Savouring every taste of the man. Even so, Denmark didn't succeed in making Sweden to submit to him, but instead, giving Berwarld another chance of biting his tongue off.

Though Denmark was fast enough to save his tongue from being bitten off, some damage was still done. The side of the older man's lip was bitten and bleeding.

"Ouch, _**Sverige, **_that wasn't so nice wasn't it?" The shorter of the two said, tending his wounded lips.

"You're getting a little out of control aren't you,_** Berwarld****?**_" Denmark said, fisting a handful of Sweden's short, golden hair. The shorter-but older man jerked Sweden's head and pulled him down for a fast kiss.

"...Maybe you need a little disciplining, don't you agree with me? _**Min elskede**__**?**_" The deep, blue eyes was staring right through the very core of Berwarld that sent shivers to the spine of the Swede. Berwarld didn't know whether it was the fear or excitement that ignited such reaction.

And with a sudden move, Denmark flipped and pushed Sweden roughly against the wall. Even with only one hand, he was approved to be strong enough to pin Sweden. The Danish quickly started stripping his prisoner and found its way to spread the cheeks of Berwarld's backside, revealing the tight puckered hole of the Swede. Denmark positioned his half-hard penis to the adjacent entrance.

"_**F****an också, Danmark! Låt mig gå**__**"**_ Sweden demanded, his hands were useless from being cuffed and pinned by Denmark. He struggled and moved his body in order to make the process harder for the older man to handle, but apparently Denmark was smarter and leaned his body weight against Sweden to stop him from struggling.

"You're in no place to order me, _**Sverige..." **_And with one strong thrust, Denmark buried himself deep within Sweden.

Berwarld cried while Denmark grunted in gutterly. The pain was unbearable for Sweden as he wasn't yet prepared for the intrusion.

Sweden tries to catch his breath, but didn't manage to as without any warning, the dominating man had already started to move. His penis pulled out of the hot cavern, leaving only the tip of his manhood inside Berwarld before thrusting back in.

"_**Stopp, ** **Jag ber dig**__**!**" _Sweden pleaded , but his pleads were ignored by the now-high Danish. Berwarld's voice was hoarse from the constant shrieks due to the eliciting pain caused by the forced intrusion.

Sweden's fine, white skin glistened with a layer of sweat. His face trickled with salty tears that were not meant to be poured. The view made Denmark unable to withstand himself to bite on those fine silk-like skin. Denmark bit Sweden's neck hard enough to draw blood. He sucked on the wound before licking them in attempt to sooth the pain, leaving a mark of love.

Sweden was at that time starting to feel pleasure. His manhood had started to harden from the repeated strokes given by Denmark and his sweet spot was hit mercilessly. His own body was twisting in pleasure, betraying the thoughts to the fact that Sweden wants to kill the man raping him right now.

Denmark was nearing his edge, and with a couple more thrusts, he came deep inside Sweden. The low groan of Denmark's elevated pleasure echoed throughout the room.

The sensation of Denmark's hot seed planted deep inside him drove Sweden crazy. The prisoned nation climaxed, spraying thick strings of white cum out of his system.

"_**Du er min nu**_… _**Sverige. Du er min nu…**_" Denmark said after catching his breathing. Sweden's consciousness had started to slip away, too tired from the recent activity.

"_**Lå... m... var.. fri**_" Sweden murmured out, his words incoherent.

"_**Låt mig vara fri**_**…**"

And with the last sentence, Berwarld fell into the blissful world of unconsciousness…

* * *

**Author's Note:** ASDFGHJKL! SORRY FOR THE SUCKINESS! PLEASE IGNORE MY UGLY GRAMMAR! ALL CRITICISM WOULD BE PUT TO A GOOD USE, BUT NO FLAMES! I'LL CRY IF I SEE THEM! Bad Swedish and Danish! BLAME THE ONLINE TRANSLATORS!

Should I put the translations here?

_**Nej**_ (Swedish)- No

_**Hvor du kan aldrig forstå **__**min kærlighed**_(Danish)_**-**_ Why can't you understand my love

_**min **__**elskede**_**, Sverige** (Danish)- My love, Sweden

_**F****an också, Danmark! Låt mig gå**_(Swedish)- Damn it, Denmark! Let me go

_**Jag ber dig**_(Swedish)- I'm begging you

_**Du er min nu**_ (Danish)- You are mine

_**Låt mig vara fr**_i(Swedish)- Let me be free

_**THANK YOU PASHIKI-SAN AND META-SAN FOR THE CORRECTIONS~! (^3^)  
**_


	2. Drömmen

'**Love is just an imagination created by our brain… It drives people crazy as it decepts one's mind'**

**

* * *

**

Sweden jerked awake. His eyes unbolted hastily. A surge of nausea and pain immediately ran through his body.

Berwald's head was throbbing badly as if someone was hitting the walls of his cranium with a big metal bat. Sweden shut his eyes back, hard, in an attempt to drive the pain away.

His teeth gritted and clenched against each other. His body was being forbidden from turning as chains and cuffs limited his every stir.

"**_Danmark!_**.." Sweden hissed. "**Vad gör du mod mig_?_**"

Anger clearly laced within his every word. His rage was stopped with another series of unbearable pain that assaulted his body.

A big gash engraved itself upon Sweden's back. A warm sensation of blood oozing out the wound followed soon after.

It was another mark for another tragedy. Another memory for another episode of his life.

"...**_Stockholms… Blodbad_**…" The nation named it; his volume barely a whisper.

His moans of pain and agony echoed and unheard within the cold, dark cell before he finally fell deep into a blissful darkness.

* * *

When Sweden realized, he was standing by the side of an icy lake. The solid water extended beyond the horizon, shimmering as the sun piercing through the clouds reflected upon them.

The pair of emerald eyes scrutinized its surroundings in an attempt to comprehend his current position.

After glimpses of familiar mountains and lands, Berwald assumes that he was somewhere within the province of Lappland. And it was the lake of Luossajärvi that lay vast before him.

The Swede tries to figure out when and how he got here, but he could not recall a single thing from his mind. His eyes wondered ubiquitously before it ended up staring to the sky.

The sky was coated with a layer of darkening clouds, heavy and solid as it hurled flakes of frozen rain.

The snow silently dusted the earth with its white colour. The northern wind blew callously to a freezing temperature, slumbering every animals and plants to their winter sleep.

Berwald stood at the same position, contemplating.

A voice that shattered the silence broke his concentration.

"**_Sverige_**! Be careful! You might be standing on thin ice!" Sweden heard his name being called from behind him. The voice was oddly similar to someone he knew, but was much younger…

He turned his body and saw a figure of a young boy running towards him. His spiky, blonde hair bobbed up and down; face tinged with healthy pink from the coldness; his hands were waving frantically.

It was Denmark, Sweden noticed, but it was a much younger account of him.

"...**_Ja, Danmark_**… b't we need t' cross the r'ver t' get t' the oth'r side." A mumbled sentence answered, this time coming from behind him.

Berwald twisted his body in reflex, having to found out that someone was situated behind him without him noticing.

And this time, he saw the younger version of himself. Squatting down on the frozen lake as he checked the thickness of the ice by touch.

His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the two, but he softened the gaze soon when he figured out the whole illogical ordeal.

'_Aah… So this must be within my dream…_' He thought.

The personification of _Konungariket Sverige's_ lips was tugged up slightly to a rare, soft smile.

Though Sweden didn't want to admit it, he did miss the old days. He remembered every second he spent with Denmark and the rest of the Nordic nations. Their Viking days were filled with misadventures and new discoveries as they journeyed for lands. He knew that the Dane was mischievous, but before he realizes, Denmark had grown into someone he no longer knows, land-hungry and greedy.

Sweden returned his gaze towards the frozen lake of Luossajärvi. Soft snows continued to fall from the greying sky, slowly blanketing the land of his nation to pure whiteness… His body felt cold, but his heart was warm when he sees his childhood playing again right before his eyes.

"… I knew you must have missed me, **_Sverige_**…" A voice whispered to his ears. The tone was devious, his breath hot and moist.

A hand then crept to touch his chin, another covered his eyes. The skin was cold and freezing. Shivers went down Sweden's spine just from the temperature.

"_**gæt hvem**__?_"

Berwald froze at once, unable to move even a single limb. The Swede's heart beating faster. Cold sweat began welling on his forehead.

He knew who's behind him.

Denmark…

"**_Danmark_**!" He gritted through his teeth. Why, even in his deepest dreams, must this man appear before him?

"Wow, **_Sverige_**!~ Good guess! I am impressed!" The Danish chuckled and hugged the taller of the two close to him from behind. Sweden scowled.

The Dane was juvenile and cruel. A perfect example of an overgrown child.

"**_Försvinn_****_, Danmark_**!" Sweden hissed. His tone poisonous. "_**Jag hatar dig för att du tog min frihet ifrån mig****!**_" Sweden shouted; pouring his every wrath through the sentence that was currently spilling out of his mouth. His facial expressions were creased into that of hatred.

The Dane just smiled.

"Well, if you despised me,**_ Sverige_**. _**Hvordan kan det så være at jeg er (med) I dinne drømme**_?" Denmark played with his tone.

Berwald's green eyes widened in astonishment. His mind spun as he tried to answer the awkward question given by the unwanted man, but his thoughts failed to comply so.

Unaware of his own showing vulnerability, Sweden felt a pair of hand abruptly pushed him down to the ground. The Swede's body stumbled and impacted fiercely to the surface of the solid ice. And before Berwald even had a chance to push himself to stand, Denmark had pinned him in-between his hands.

"…Doesn't it prove that you still have feelings for me?" The man atop him sneered.

"**_Ja, Sverige_**?" The man continued. Smiling enigmatically as Denmark lowered himself to kiss Sweden into a mirage of an illusionary kiss…

Berwald immediately shut his eyes. All he needed to see now was the darkness behind his eyelids.

* * *

Sweden was awoken, startled by his own dreams.

His breathing heavy and hitching; body drenched in sweat and blood from the still-throbbing wound embed on his back. The Swede's lips were cracked and dried from dehydration.

'**_Gudskelov_**_... It was just a dream…' _Berwald thought.

He tried to shift his body a little bit to a more comfortable position, but failed as his moves were restricted by the bounds. His hands were still hanged onto the cuffs and his feet still chained to the heavy weight.

He was back to the reality. The lake of Luossajärvi no longer rested before him.

The prisoner of the Danish atrocity sighed. He stared blankly at the darkness that has replaced the vast Swedish land. The views of the scenery from his dream were still freshly engraved within his mind...

"**_God morgen, Sverige_**! I'm here for your breakfast!~" A voice interrupted his daydream. Happy and guiltless.

Denmark popped out of the heavy door that was separating the prison cell to the warmth of the sun outside. The hands of the Northern King were carrying a tray consisting of a simple meal of bread and a glass of water. He placed the tray in front of his captive and stood in front of him.

"...How's your body?" Denmark asked; this time, his tone was a little lower and full of concern.

The Swede didn't answer and proceeded with his code of silence.

Denmark sighed knowingly. His long fingers, tenderly, touched Sweden's cheek. Those nimble digits dexterously traced along the strong jaw lines of Berwald's chiseled features with feather-light touches. It halted on the neckline of the silent man. Denmark's face drew nearer and nearer towards Sweden's. Those hungry orifices stopped at the bridge of Berwald's neck; sucking on the tender skin to leave another mark of love.

"...**_du hviste at jeg gjorde alt dette for di egen skyld_**_?"_ The captor whispered slowly. His face pushed away from where it was. His deep, cerulean eyes met with a pair of cyan that belongs to Berwald.

Sweden spat on Denmark's face, uncaring of the consequences for what he just did.

"**_Du _****_är_****_ t_****_o_****_kig…_**"

Denmark's patience had been eaten up. He harshly punched the side of the weakened country before him in a fit of rage.

"**_Du er nok så ringe og afmægtig og endnu jer lagde ikke mærke til_****_..._**_"_ Denmark said. His hands stumbled to assault Berwald's spread thigh.

And all Sweden could do was to close his eyes and pray to god. Submitting himself to the controlling hands of the Dane...

**_

* * *

_**

**_Author's Note:_** YAY FOR DENSU~! AND YAY FOR CHAPTER TWO~! OH MY GOD, THIS CHAPTER TOOK ME VERY LONG BECAUSE OF MY PART-TIME JOB! (imagine me working from 2 in the afternoon until 10, reaches home only when it's around 11:15) AND THIS WAS DONE AT 5 IN THE MORNING

My geography sucks and that made me have to go and check Wikipedia very often now and then for locations that I think is suitable for the story, if you saw any mistakes with the setting and language, do tell me~! Because I, myself, do not believe in online translators. And I just realized that I spelled Berwald as Berwarld… I'm changing everything now…

Thank you to all readers who reviewed the first chapter of this fic~! XD jen789-san, bloominpoppies-san, -san, Meta-chan-san and Pashiki-san!

Hope you enjoyed chapter two! (And that you're not bored of pr1s0ns3x... orz)

Thank you Nyou-san for the correction of the Swedish lines! 3 I was cringing at my own work looking at the screwed up,online-translated sentences :9

And Thank You again for Meta-chan! You rock! :D

Translations:

**Vad gör du mod mig **(Swedish)-What are you doing against me  
**Stockholms Blodbad**(Swedish)-Stockholm's Bloodbath  
**Konungariket Sverige**(Swedish)-The Kingdom of Sweden  
**gæt hvem**(Danish)-Guess who  
**Försvinn**(Swedeish)-Go away  
**jag hatar dig för att du tog min frihet ifrån mig **(Swedish)- I hate you for stripping me away from my freedom  
**Hvordan kan det så være at jeg er (med) I dinne drømme**(Danish)- How come I can be within your dreams  
**Gudskelov**(Swedish)-Thank god  
**God morgen**(Danish)-Good morning  
**du hviste at jeg gjorde alt dette for di egen skyld **(Danish)-You knew that I did this all was for your own good  
**Du är tokig** (Swedish)-You are crazy  
**Du er nok så ringe og afmægtig og endnu jer lagde ikke mærke til. **(Danish)-You are very small and powerless, but yet you didn't notice. 


	3. Fly

'_There are two times in every man's life when he is thoroughly happy; just after he has met his first love and just after he has parted from his last one.'_

_~H. L. Mencken_

* * *

The perpetual sound of water dropping onto the cold, stone floor reverberated throughout the room.

The constant, soft breathing made by the single occupant of the room was the only noise that you can hear besides the continuous dripping.

The dungeon was as silent and dark as the night. The temperature was as cold as touching point zero. And within, was the representation of the once-proud kingdom, Sweden, now both physically and mentally battered. His head hung low in defeat and exhaustion from all the damage he had taken from the bloodbath.

Berwald stared at blankly at the mist that formed from his every breath. Every part of his body ached, dried blood laced his every limb. Somehow, he could see a faint image of a place that he wasn't familiar with, flashing and playing within his head like a broken movie. The image of an axe blade, covered in blood, was conjoined within the vision ever so clearly.

Considering that his people had lost most of their leaders, Berwald, himself, needs to do something. He knows that without anyone guiding his people, they would most probably loose their sight and submit to the Danes. That would be the last thing Berwald wants to do.

But even after all the resolution; first, he needs to get out of this shit-hole.

Those once lifeless, cyan eyes now burnt back with life. His whole soul was filled with pure decision. His hands were clenched into a fist in determination.

Berwald will bring his proud kingdom to rise back on its platform of glory. His flag would sway by the wind, bared in the open air called freedom.

And Berwald swore to himself, that he, will _not_ fail.

* * *

The sky was thoroughly painted with shades of gray. Dark, heavy clouds were slowly emitting fine sands of ice, covering the lifeless landmass.

And atop of the sheets of white, was Denmark. His face were tinged in slight pink hue due to the prickly coldness of the temperature against his face. Sitting on a mound of a large boulder, he slowly wiped the blood dirtying his axe with a dirty rag. He hummed a random note that came into his mind, breaking the steady silence of the atmosphere.

It was November 10; Denmark recalled.

A weak moan suddenly erupted from the position further back from him followed along with a small rustle of movement. The proud Viking stopped his both his hand movements and song. His deep, Sapphire eyes peeked to the side. His eyes were directed upon the land several metres away from him.

And atop the sheet of the pure whiteness of snow, was a sea of contrasting crimson. The redness of blood slowly diffused to the snow, dirtying the serene whiteness with gore and death. Headless, mutilated corpse haphazardly scattered around the patch of scarlet snow. A powerless, wavering hand reached out, seeking unexistent help.

Denmark scrunched his nose in extreme abhorrence. He despised the disgusting odour emitted by the blood from the dead, degrading bodies of the damned anti-unionists, but he hated die-hard people even more. It was a good thing he planned to slaughter every one of them; at least no one else would have experienced any of their rotten promise.

His- no... _Their _king would have lead them better than those aristocratic liars.

The self-proclaimed 'King of Northern Europe' stood up from where he previously sat. He dusted imaginary dusts from the back of his clothing and took his first step towards the source of where the sound came from.

_Crunch... crunch..._

With every step he took, the ice below his feet made a crunching noise. The sound stopped when he stood directly before the struggling body. Denmark pulled his Danish axe high. He made a fatal blow as he swung the sharp blade. The edge of his axe jabbed straight into the body, draining the life from the last survival of the massacre.

He pulled his once-again bloodied axe and went back to sit on the rock he previously sat on before. He took the cleaning rag and once again began cleaning the blade. Another different tune unconsciously emerged from his throat as he got himself lost within his thought.

The Dane always considered himself as Sweden's older brother ever since they met each other during the early civilization. And a true brother would never allow anyone to corrupt his siblings and made them to go against their own family; nor antagonizing their own brother.

What he did now was all for the good of Sweden. That is why he killed every one, this is also why Denmark created _Kalmar Unionen_. It was to protect all of his brothers, blood or not-blood related.

But in the end, he realized it was all simply for Sweden. Everything had always been for him...

Denmark sighed as he finished the last rub to clean his blade. Once again, he stood up and stared to the now setting sun.

"**Jeg kommer hjem, bror…**" He whispered to himself.

It's time to go back.

* * *

The castle of his current king had always been silent. Only light steps and slight murmurs of mainds or officials could be heard throughout the castle. Kristian II, apparently, does not seem to really like noises as he himself was a man of few words. The proud Danish made his proud steps on the red carpet lining the halls of the castle. Paintings of previous kings were hung everywhere, decorating the bare, white walls.

The whole castle was too quiet for Denmark's liking, so sometimes he either made a loud noise or sung a chirpy to himself; he was more of a festive person anyway.

Before Sweden decided to rebel, the whole castle used to be more livelier with the presence of more laughter and chatters from the rest of his union; Norway, Iceland, Finland...

… And Sweden.

Sweden might be silent, but something about him made Denmark's life more colourful. His presence alone made a certain tingly feeling within Denmark. His body shivered in excitement whenever he caught Sweden looking at his way, but another feeling similar to jealousy erupted whenever he realized that those eyes were meant for Finland. Not him.

Talking about Finland, Denmark has yet to see him for the past ten days before the bloodbath occurred. He must have probably escaped, scared of his life; but its okay, Denmark would soon re-capture him anyway.

Denmark continued his steps until he reached to a certain heavy wooden doors all the way at the end of the castle. It was heavily secured with bars of irons and locks. He unlocked all the iron lock. He then pulled the wooden plank securing the entrance and made an effortless push the door. It would have required the strength of at least two men to open the gate, but he wasn't human anyway. He was a nation.

The door opened to reveal a set of stairs that leads to dark, cold basement. The Dane took steps down deeper into the chamber. The repercussion of the sound of his heels echoed as it resounded into the empty air.

"_**Sverige**_..." Denmark's voice echoed throughout the dungeon. Berwald was alerted with the presence of another person and quickly switched into his defensive demeanour. His eyes were sharp as he observed the moving Dane.

Denmark ignored the cold stare currently being directed to him an unlocked the cell. He looked at his prisoner and smiled innocently. Sweden's face hardened. His lips were pulled into a thin line. The greenish-blue eyes moved with every step the overwhelming Dane in front of him made. Not single trace of fear could be traced. Only anger.

"... _**Danmark!**_" He hissed.

"_**Ja, Sverige?**_" Denmark casually replied without a single trace of guilt. Sweden gritted his teeth.

"**Sluta spela. **What exactly have you done you wretched beast? Do you think killing all my royalties would swagger my people into submission?" The imprisoned Swede spat. His words were heavily coated with a ton of malice and irritation.

Denmark was not happy with the tone Sweden used. Using his fore-finger and thumb, he lifted Sweden's chin and stared back to those rage-filled, beautiful eyes.

"You are not to use such a tone to me, _**Sverige. **_And you know I always meant what I said."

" **Jag använder vilken ton jag vill. **" Berwald retorted rebelliously. Denmark's face dramatically turned from a shit-eating grin into to an expression that of an anger. He lifted his right hand, and with all his rage, he connected his fist to Sweden's unprotected jaw.

The impact made Berwald's eyes to see stars for a couple of seconds. He slowly regained his sight and shifted his face again towards the Dane.

"... **Kan du inte mer?" **Berwald once again provoked. The rebellious tone still infused within his words, angering the man before him even more.

With no hesitation, Denmark swung his fist once again towards Sweden. Berwald escaped from the impact by a slight inch and quickly kicked Denmark by his solar plexus. The impact swooned the man out of balance, giving Berwald enough chance to make his own move. Using his inhumanly strength, Sweden pulled the chain connected to the wooden cuffs free. Liberating his hands from hanging above him.

With his hands no longer restrained to the walls, Berwald ran towards the open gates and ran out of the cell. He looked back for a second as he discovered that the representation of the great Kingdom of Denmark was still crouching in pain, unable to right away chase the escaping prisoner. With then, immediately continued to run.

Sweden did not dare to look back for the second time. He just ran forward, following his intuition to lead him towards the exit. He was pretty much familiar with the castle when he was forcefully demanded to live within it during the start of the union.

As he was running nearer to the exit, a familiar voice was caught by Sweden's sensitive ears. The voice was calling for him.

"Su-san!"

It must have been from Tino. Berwald just couldn't figure out how Finland was still within the compound of Denmark's territory and have yet to get caught, but he was happy enough that Tino was save. Sweden ran faster towards where he assumed had came from.

Nearing towards the open window that the voice originated from, Sweden spun his head around for any signs of Tino; but there were no one.

Suddenly, a pair of hands appeared out of nowhere. It clasped his mouth before it pulled him out towards the window.

Sweden's eyes widened, but was back to its original demeanour when he realized it was Finland that helped him. His face was serious and full of determination. A finger was placed in front of his lips in a gesture of demandind silence.

When Finland put his finger down, his lips opened to whisper.

"Su-san... We need to escape from here..."

Berwald wordlessly agreed and nodded.

* * *

A.N.: YAY FOR PROCRASTINATION. I was very stressed when my laptop broke down when I had already completed my third chapter. I had to undergo my emo-pace and sulked for 3 weeks or so before I had to buy a netbook to replace my laptop before I started writing again. And to be truthfully saying, I hate this netbook.

So, here is the long-awaited chapter 3. I hope you enjoyed them~! :-)  
Btw, if anyone was expecting SuFin, I am sorry, it would not appear in here.

All translations are all thanks to PinkRamen-san!

Translations:

**Jeg kommer hjem, bror**(Danish)**- I am coming home, brother**

**Sluta spela**(Swedish)**- Stop with all the act**

**Jag använder vilken ton jag vill**(Swedish)**-****I will use whatever tone I wish**

**Kan du inte mer?**(Swedish)**- **Is that all you got?**  
**

So, see you in the next chapter! hopefully it would not take as long as this chapter ;)**  
**


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